In Autumn's Wake Page 8

  Sean pokes my arm, distracting me before I begin to lament over his death. “Back that way.” He points at a guy in a Sabres hoodie who’s taking cash and handing out cups.

  There’re no written rules that we have to pay, but most people do, knowing the money will be used to fund the next party. When the cash flow stops, so does the beer.

  We get in line, held up by a group of sorority girls yakking about a new App. Sean fidgets. He looks at the clock in the kitchen and folds his arms. A second later he runs his hand through his hair and sighs.

  “Come on. What’s taking so long?” He stands on his tiptoes and looks over their heads. “Hurry up. I’m drying out back here.”

  Weed drifts up from the basement, the skunk smell of a boring drug. Cops won’t bother with it unless there’s a truckload. It’s too insignificant to do any harm. They’re after the harder drugs that lead to violence in the neighborhood, causing the crime rate to climb.

  “Ten each.” The guy in the Sabres hoodie puts his hand on a stack of red cups, holding a wad of cash in the other.

  “You didn’t charge those chicks,” Sean says. “Is it because I’m black, or because I have a dick?”

  “Ten,” he repeats.

  “This is gender discrimination. It’s the same at bars. Women don’t have to pay to get in. They get free drinks. What do men get?”

  Here we go again. “Sean, mellow out. We always donate some cash.”

  “Yeah, we donate. This guy’s saying we have to pay.”

  “Don’t start. It’s no biggie.”

  “Since when is there a charge?” he asks the guy.

  One of the sorority girls turns and listens.

  “You’ll make more money than a woman in the long run, so I’m charging you. Fifteen each.” The guy ups the price, trying to impress the women in the room.

  Sean looks at me. “Don’t pay him.”

  “Why?” I say through clenched teeth. “You’ll get us kicked out.”

  The sorority girl marches over and whacks his chest. “Hurry up and pay the guy, my friends are waiting behind you. What’s your problem?”

  “My problem?” He lowers his head and blows the spot where she hit him. “If I slapped your chest, you’d call the cops and have me arrested for assault. You have no idea where I’m coming from, or how—”

  I cover his mouth to gag him. “We haven’t been here five minutes, and you’re already locking horns with everyone. Can you at least last an hour and down a few beers before this starts.” I release him and hand the guy a twenty. “Here, ten each, okay?”

  He takes the cash and shoves the cups at our chests. “One drink, then get out. Old men don’t belong at college parties.”

  I fib so we can stay longer. “I’m nineteen. We’re students.” I hold the cup between my front teeth and unzip my coat. Sean heads for the keg, grazing against the sorority girl on his way out. I’ll try to use his outburst in our favor. “Got anything here that will help my friend relax? Maybe something a bit stronger than weed?”

  He gives me a chin flick and says, “Get the hell outta my face.”

  The guy’s too sober to take the bait. But it would’ve been awesome if he’d said, “Upstairs. Ask for Joe. He’s got stuff.”

  I weave through the crowd to a keg for a fill-up, then meet Sean alongside a wall by the stairs. He refuses to look me in the eye.

  “Hey. What the hell happened back there?”

  “Tell ya later.”

  “Tell me now.” I lean beside him, placing my foot against the wall.

  “Don’t get on my case. We’ll talk about it later tonight.” He chugs his beer.

  I elbow him and lean closer. “Ed’s job isn’t as important as whatever went down today. Spill it. Why are you so upset?”

  He swirls his cup, generating a whirlpool with the beer. This room, this house, my life—it’s the same feeling as being trapped in the circular current. People shimmy past, their arms raised to squeeze on by. Inward bound, pay the man, pour a beer, move on out. Circle past, hike upstairs, march back down. Faces repeat every minute.

  “Sean. Talk to me.”

  “I quit my job … then I went groveling back.”

  “Over what?” I lower my cup.

  “What do you think?” He holds out his arms and looks down at himself. Yep. Someone ticked him off, big time. “Get this,” he shouts over the band. “I was doing paperwork for some moneyed hag so she could buy a new car, and she asked if someone else could help because she didn’t trust a black man to do it right. I should’ve told her off, but I left instead.” He downs the rest of his beer and shakes his head.

  The racism in our neighborhood isn’t as bad as where he works. The car dealership is outside of the city in a white upper-class suburb.

  “People are assholes,” I tell him. “If it happens again, say something. Who cares if you get fired? Look, you can always work at the bar until you find another job.”

  He’s sensitive, and I don’t blame him. But he has to be on his game when we search the house for the coke. If someone’s dealing in here, no doubt they’ll have a gun. He can’t be in this headspace.

  “No distractions, Sean, I need you to be a hundred percent with me.” I kick his boot. “Listening?”

  He nods.

  “Look, Heather was a rich white girl who thought you were kickass. She loved you. Don’t let one racist person set you off. All right?”

  He shrugs. “You don’t understand.”

  “Yeah, I do. People call me a dumb Polack every week. You hear the guys at the bar with the stupid jokes they toss out at me. ‘Hey, did you hear about the Polish family that froze to death? They were waiting to see the movie Closed for the Winter.’ ”

  He laughs.

  “Good, glad my pain of being known as a dumb Polack can make you feel better.”

  He laughs even louder. “You’re right, Dylan. Your life sucks.” He taps his empty cup on my forehead and wanders away for a refill, leaving me to scope out the room.

  Guys sweat in their wool coats, having no place to ditch them while women endure the stuffy house in their fleece hats, not wanting to parade around with hat head. I study the small clusters to locate who might live here. Two people are arguing on my right, and two kids who are far too young to be students are on my left. I’d say they’re in middle school, at best. They look up at everyone who walks by, geekishly holding their beer cups with two hands. Yeah, middle schoolers, for sure. And all the college clichés are out in droves. Beauty queens taking selfies, stoners with half-moon eyes, jocks in college sweatshirts, and a circle of nerdy women with thick glasses and nappy ponytails trying desperately to fit in. It’s a typical mix. There’s even the usual loner in the corner.

  “Sorry to act like a pisser,” Sean cuts in. “It’s been a long day.”

  The loner in the corner…

  “Who you staring at?”

  I lift my beer in her direction. “Autumn.”

  He looks across the room. “What’s she doing here?”

  “She must be a student.” I stare, taking swigs of beer, acting like a robot with my precise movements. I’ve beat off every day this week thinking about her lips pressed to mine. And now, just fifteen feet away, she turns my palms sweaty and makes my heartbeats sound like a stampede. I’m nervous about losing track of her in this crowd. And worried that she’ll run off if I approach.

  “Dylan, she spooks me out. Find a girl who doesn’t hang at house parties alone.”

  “She’s not spooky.”

  “Yeah-huh. Look at the way she’s eyeing you. She’s either sizing up your dick, or your coffin.”

  “Either way, I’m game.”

  He crosses his arms, his cup off to the side. “She hasn’t even blinked.”

  “You can’t see that from here.”

  “And she’s wearing the same outfit she wore last week.”

  “I wear the same coat all winter.”


  “You’re a guy. For a woman, that’s a big deal. Walk away, I’m telling ya, a lone wolf is a sign of trouble.”

  “Woot-woot-woot!” An assembly line of drunken hosers reels through the front door with their fists pumping in the air. “Get drunk. Pound-her-hard. Get drunk. Pound-her-hard,” they chant. The tallest guy reaches up and rides the ceiling fan. He brings it down and hits the floor in a thud. Ceiling wires spark. Women scream. It’s ridiculously chaotic and tiresome. I’ve never wanted friends like this. They require too much attention. And way too much beer.

  “Get drunk. Pound-her-hard.” The chant continues into the dining room. “Get drunk. Pound-her-hard.”

  Without the ceiling light, faces transform into shadows. I pull out a cigarette while tracking Autumn through the room. She’s moved from the corner to a heavy-curtained window.

  “Stop fussing over her. We need to get to work so we can get out of here.”

  She types something into her phone, and my pocket vibrates.

  It’s not her.

  It’s a text from Ed.

  Two blocks away. Waiting. Whatcha Got?

  I show it to Sean. He pats his hip where he keeps his gun. He’s ready, but I’m not. I need five minutes to talk to Autumn before we search the house.

  “Too soon,” I say.

  He rolls his eyes. “Hurry up and talk to her so we can go.”

  I hand him my beer and step into a wave of people, my smoke held between my lips, working my way through the raging river of kids. There’s no channel to follow. I absorb the impact of floating debris, pummeled and turned about, finally steering my way through to the other side.

  “Hi,” I say, finger-combing my hair forward before taking another drag of my smoke. She looks past me and around the room. “I said, hi.” I snap my finger in her face. “What’s the deal? Is this another game?” She ignores me. I rub the back of my neck. “Hey, you could at least look at me.”

  “Dylan, if you can’t take the time to figure out a poem and call me, then you won’t put the time and effort into a relationship. It was a simple test. You failed. Period.”

  “What?” My nose scrunches at her dominance. “Screw you.” I head back into the flurry of people. I’m not turning into a girl’s obedient puppet. “You’re wrong. You failed, not me,” I call back.

  “She had her eyes on you the entire way across the room,” Sean says. “She say she wasn’t interested again?”

  “Forget it. I’m pissed. I’ll pick up a slut from the bar later on.”

  “God, you’re crazy over her, or you wouldn’t be this upset. What’d she say?”

  The men in the kitchen start a new chant. “Jolly-jugs. Bang-a-babe. Jolly-jugs. Bang-a-babe.” They coordinate a series of manly grunts, surrounding the keg, waving red and blue cups in the air to simulate an American flag. The stupidity spreads into this room, with the two young kids repeating the words in mousy voices, raising their cups to the chant. “Jolly-jugs. Bang-a-babe!”

  I take out my cell, debating if I want to call Autumn to prove her wrong. “She’s selfish. She wants a long-term boyfriend,” I say. “She thinks I failed her test.” I look across and see her watching me like a hawk. Screw the cell. I’ll put on a show.

  I raise my hands, about to present seven fingers to begin flashing her number, when she takes a full-blooded strut in my direction.

  “Dylan,” Sean says.

  I drop my arms.

  “Dylan, she’s unbuttoning her coat.” He puts a hand on his gun. “Get ready for something.”

  Her coat falls off her shoulders and slides down her arms. The sight of her body sends my cigarette tumbling from my mouth to the floor. Her snug transparent shirt, the color of her pale skin, leaves nothing, nothing, to the imagination. Bra, belly, every inch of her trim torso is visible through the fabric.

  “Holy shit,” I whisper.

  She stops in front of me, a finger to my lips, her bootheel snuffing out my smoke. “Say what’s on your mind, Dylan. Be honest. Tell me exactly what you’re thinking right this very second.” She frees my lips and waits for an answer, arms crossed, a strand of hair over one eye.

  “Damn,” Sean whispers, mouth hanging open.

  I hold my breath, knowing whatever I say will be wrong. Strip for me. Show me your titties. Wanna ride me? Saying any of these things makes me a pig. Not saying them makes me a liar. What else would be on my mind when she’s standing an inch away looking so fine?

  Her hand latches onto my belt, tugging me forward. “With your eyes on my boobs, I know your answer, no need to say a word.” She pushes me away. “How sad.”

  I hold out my hands, palms up. “I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”

  “Nice try.” She walks to the stairs, bringing her coat up over her shoulders.

  “Hey, I know it’s obvious that I want you. You don’t have to treat me like I’m an asshole because of it,” I shout. “So what if I think you’re hot? So what? Let’s do it, okay? How ‘bout that?”

  “Shh.” Sean nudges. “Put a cork in it.”

  “Hey, Autumn. I want to fuck you!”

  “Ugh.” Sean lowers his head. “You dumbass. That was totally embarrassing.”

  She turns around, shocked. A ripple of silence disables the room.

  “Um … that’s not … that didn’t come out right.” I regret the words the second I see her fists.

  “Go upstairs. Tap-that-ass.” The drunks clap. “Go upstairs. Tap-that-ass.”

  “Shut up!” Sean shouts.

  Autumn charges back and grabs my hand, tugging me upstairs.

  “Autumn, wait. I didn’t mean it.”

  Cheers spread throughout the room.

  “How do you know my name?” She glances over her shoulder.

  “Rick said it last weekend.”

  She squeezes my hand and leads me past a line of ogling women sitting on the steps. Up, up, closer and closer to the bedrooms.

  “I’m sorry. Really. I can’t help it. You knock me out. Okay? Is that so wrong?”

  “It’s always the same.” She sounds disappointed. “I’ll give you what you want. Then it’s over.”

  “No, I don’t want it. I mean, I do. But, not here, not now.”

  Sounds of sex, and laughter, and dominant drunks flood the second floor. It’s total turmoil up here.

  “Autumn. Let’s talk.”

  Couples grind in the hall, waiting for a chance to slip into the first bedroom that’s free.

  Pull her back. Make her listen. You haven’t been hooked on a girl since Heather. Screw her now, and it’s all over. Don’t. Don’t do it.

  I’m not sure why I don’t stop her. I’m stronger than she is. I can put an end to this. But I keep following, hypnotized by the warm highlights in her hair swinging across her back, controlled by her suggestive walk and the brilliance of her burgundy coat.

  We pass a guy finger-tapping the wall next to the bathroom door. With Autumn in front of me, and all the commotion surrounding us, that’s the one thing my brain catches and retains. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I spin Autumn around. “Please, stop!” I shout at her, or at him—at both of them. Her hands rest on my arms to keep me at a safe distance.

  My eyes rake her from head to toe, her outfit turning my palms slick with sweat. Everything inside me is hot. Our eyes lock, our chests rise and fall in unison, and slow smiles unfold. It takes a ton of willpower not to kiss her, and a boatload of restraint not to carry her home to my bed and rip off all her clothes like some wild beast. Discipline. It’s not easy. But the wait is electrifying, exactly what drew me to Heather.

  “I like you,” I whisper. She doesn’t hear me over the noise. In a louder voice, I tell her what she wants to hear, rattling off her phone number. Her eyes light up, and she lowers her arms. “I was going to call you tonight,” I say. “I figured it out last night.”

  She tries to hide a smile, biting her bottom lip, then
the top, and the bottom again. Cute.

  “You ready?” She grips the handle of the door next to us.

  I shake my head. “No. I like you more than just a quick lay.”

  Sean appears by my side, slaps my back.

  “Him too,” she says. “You two ready?”

  “For what?” I ask.

  “The Snowman.” She slides off her coat, flaunting the see-through shirt again. With her hands to each side of the doorjamb, she tilts forward and flashes her cleavage, giving the door a swift kick. “Little pig, little pig, let me in.”

  The door opens a crack.

  “Hi,” she says in a sexy voice, cocking her head. “I’m here to buy some fun.” She paws at the door until it opens wider.

  A burly guy grabs her arm and pulls her inside. Sean’s next. Then me.

  The deadbolt clunks, locking us in, and we stumble in total darkness.

  10

  I feel my way up a flight of stairs to an open attic space. A dingy sheet covers the lone window, blocking the city lights from flooding the room. The pungent smell of rat piss along with thick clouds of smoke engulfs me whole.

  “Mack. You’ve got three waiting for some coke.”

  A low-hanging bulb dangles on a long cord from the middle of the ceiling.

  “Be right out.” A drawling voice answers from an unlit corner of the room.

  Grungy mattresses line the walls—a young woman zoned out on one, a dead mouse with its head caught in a trap on the foot of another.

  Autumn drapes her coat over her forearm and brushes her hair off her shoulders. She twists left and right, joyfully humming as she waits. Is she a dealer here for a pickup? A user? I don’t know which, but I hate it that she’s here buying drugs.

  “Mack, you got three here.”

  “I heard ya, Billy. Keep cool. They can wait.”

  I need to get a text out to Ed. We were supposed to find out if there’s a supply, where it’s kept, then get out so the cops can raid the place. But Autumn took us right into the mouth of the shark.

  “I drank your beer,” Sean says, shuffling his feet.

  “What is that, three?”